


Amens In Amber

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: Amens in Amber [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 15, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Angst and Feels, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Prayer, Praying Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Gabriel, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Season/Series 15, amen, praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: As Castiel walks away, he reflects on the loss of love.Post Season 15 Episode 3: The Rupture.Inspired by a poem in Leonardas Andriekus' 'Amens in Amber.'





	Amens In Amber

**Author's Note:**

> Like the description says, this is heavily inspired by "Dialogue" in Leonardas Andriekus' 'Amens in Amber.' 
> 
> Let me know if you think this should be continued or if it stands well on its own. 
> 
> P.S. This book is literally a goldmine of Destiel inspo.

Excerpt of Dialogue 

(from Leonardas Andriekus’ ‘Amens in Amber’)

_We talk together_

_As if from two planets._

_One south,_

_One north;_

_Of cursed todays_

_And blessed tomorrows,_

_We do not understand each other._

Every ‘Amen’ he’d ever uttered seemed to be cursed to rest forever in amber, like some hapless insect whose destiny had sent it on a collision course with eternity, feeble wings flapping, faltering; failing.

All that prayer, all that fervor, all that faith and loyalty and devotion; for what?

There was only one entity he still believed in – only one person in Creation he wished to put his stead in.

When the end had come and gone, when his faith had been tried and tested and it seemed that every unanswered prayer took him further from his homeland, when the sky had started to fall, when it appeared as if God himself had forgotten or forsaken them, when all the chips fell down and all his cards clattered to the table, revealing yet another losing hand – there was only one person he wanted by his side.

An angel wasn’t supposed to fall for a human. It went against the natural order of the world. Heaven and was separated from Earth for a reason, and there were walls and seals and holy laws preventing the twain from meeting.

When the world had been young; when the stars had been newly formed and the long, spiral arms of the galaxy shone bright in skies that were not yet polluted by humankind, he’d wondered. Questioned. Doubted.

He’d learned to control those doubts. Silence those questions. To follow orders, and to be the good solider Heaven had intended him to be.

Then he’d been sent with his brethren to rescue Dean Winchester, and the moment he laid a hand on him, he was lost.

The questions came back, louder than ever. His doubts were too many to neatly compartmentalize. And he began to wonder if he, Angel of the Lord, would know the kind of love and light he’d felt only once before, when he’d first been woven into creation, one of the last of God’s angels, and had looked into his brother Gabriel’s eyes and felt glory and grace surge through his being.

Here, now, at the end of everything, he had the answers to the questions he’d been trying not to ask the entirety of his existence. His doubts and fears were irrevocably confirmed. The world had ended and been put back together so many times it was a wonder it wasn’t tearing at the seams.

He was the man who knew too much, and acted too little, too late.

And he knew, above all else, what love was. He’d felt it many, many times, in Dean’s presence, in Jack’s presence, and even in Sam’s presence.

But one never feels more keenly the blade of love as when it is ending, and walking away, he knew the death of love, and lamented the smallness, the pettiness of his dreams – he wished for nothing more than to turn around, cascade down the stairs, and fall into Dean’s arms, but it was too late; it was always too late.

Amber; he’d encase this moment in amber and turn it over and over again in his mind until it was a shiny, beautiful memory, like a sea stone being tossed to smoothness and perfection by the relentless, restless waves.

He knew Dean couldn’t hear him, but he prayed anyway. Stood there in the pouring rain, face upturned towards the Heavens, so empty of his brothers and sisters due to his hands, which were still red and gleaming with their blood.

No one came; no soul flung open the door and begged him to come back. There was nothing left to do but to say a single, silent, last – ‘Amen.’


End file.
